


Dust Motes

by heartswells



Series: Micro-Story Prompts [2]
Category: Cancer Crew, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Hand Jobs, M/M, Motels, Prompt: Dust Motes, sleezy motels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-17
Updated: 2018-11-17
Packaged: 2019-08-24 18:09:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16645241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartswells/pseuds/heartswells
Summary: George leaned out the chipped doorframe of the bathroom to see Max soaking up spilled cola from the bedsheets with his shirt. A roach scuttled down the wall behind Max as if to halo him, and George couldn’t help but think that Max’s beauty was obscene.





	Dust Motes

 The ghostly fingertips of the single fluorescent light bulb barely reached the floor, and it flickered languidly, puppeteering the shadows with its shaky rhythm. George exhaled his tension in a cloud of cigarette smoke, and the reflection of its gray whorls danced among the greasy fingerprints staining the mirror. The AC emitted a strained squeal, and the moldy drapes fluttered their wings in response. Smearing his hand over his eyes to rub away the burn of his exhaustion, George tossed his cigarette in the sink so it could wither beneath the leaking faucet.

 

 “Fuck!” He leaned out the chipped doorframe of the bathroom to see Max soaking up spilled cola from the bedsheets with his shirt. A roach scuttled down the wall behind Max as if to halo him, and George couldn’t help but think that Max’s beauty was obscene. 

  


 “This place isn’t worth ten dollars,” Max whined, tossing his shirt to the floor.

  


 “It was fifty,” he replied. It wasn’t worth that much, but Max was worth anything.

 

 A trillion bedbugs scuttled to life as their bodies collided on the mattress, and Max’s fingers tangled in his hair, eager to feverishly twist and twine with wily lust, but George’s love churned thickly in his blood with slow, indulgent heat; Max whined, lips nipping with impatience. George parted from their kiss, nestling his sweet, swollen lips on Max’s collarbone and sliding his hands along the soft edges of Max’s waist until he batted them away, cursing his own ticklishness.  


 Max brushed his fingers through his greasy curls as George grazed his lips over the tender skin of his neck. His skin was supple and tangy, sweet and pliant beneath his teeth, and he keened with tender wantonness. Pulsing beneath his lips, George felt Max’s heartbeat, and he suckled in enchantment, making Max’s skin bloom with shades of rose and hibiscus.

  


 His fingers unsnapped the button on Max’s jeans, drawing his cock into his spit-slicked palm. George stroked, his heartbeat  in sync to the wet slide of Max’s cock in his hand, and rested his head against Max’s chest, losing himself to the rhythm. Max’s arms wrapped around his body in, arms reaching over to unzip George’s jeans.

  


 Two roaches had gathered on Max’s sugar-soaked shirt, wiggling their antennae in a silly dance; their breaths brought the deathliness of night to life, their pants and gasps and groans creating nebulas in the air. Beneath the sweltering heat of Max’s breaths, George’s cheek slid on the sweat on Max’s chest.

  


 Max’s heart beat with all the wildness of the universe, and when he came, his heart crescendoed with the music of a trillion brilliant crystals crashing; its euphoria drew George over the edge simultaneously. The roaches feasted, unperturbed by Max’s cry, and as their breathing calmed, the world once again froze with the whizz of the AC and the flutter of the draped.

  


 They remained immobile in post-coital bliss as their sweat soaked the scratchy sheets and their come turned thick and cold. Max fell into sleep, and George detached himself from his embrace. He watched the ugly dried vegetables of a ramen cup roll beneath the current of the tap water in the before discovering that half the microwave buttons didn't work and sighing in resignation.

  
  


 The mattress wheezed with a million final, dying breaths of bed bugs as George settle back next to Max. Max’s curls unfurled across the pillow like ocean waves, sparkling with crystalline drops of sweat, and a sudden ache of longing rolled over him, a premonition of grief. In the silence, he fell somber with the knowledge of time and loss. George intertwined his fingers with Max’s, pressing together their palms, heartline to heartline, lifeline to lifeline.

  


 He felt the urge to shake Max from his dreams and force him to promise to stay forever, to beg God to exchange the tick of seconds with the tick of Max’s heartbeat. Fragile as gossamer, George knew that as long as Max breathed, he could also say goodbye. It was the pain that could not be unthreaded from life, the inevitability the someday there would be only memories and longing, that tomorrow his palms could be barren, their love but an unswept dust mote rotting in the carpet.

  



End file.
